Taking Control
by thebartender713
Summary: One Shot: i"...I can no longer handle this. Why did my life have to turn out this way? ...Either way, I shall die, so what is the point"rnA boy turns to desperate measures to avoid his pre-determined fate...


Taking Control… 

As I walk alone, thoughts plague my head…

I can no longer handle this. Why did my life have to turn out this way? I'm young, after all, and I know that it is hopeless. Either way, I shall die, so what is the point?

This dank, dark corridor reminds me so much of my life. The people I lived with… was raised by- how can I call them family? I cannot. No matter how closely related we may be, they are not my family. They don't love me. I sometimes wonder if they ever did.

No. I know they didn't love me. They loved- no, cared about- what they thought I could be. What they wanted me to be. They never cared about 'just me'.

The only people that ever cared about me are gone. I think they loved me when I was small. But those people disappeared before I could get to know them. All because they got caught up with the Dark Lord. Because of him- I never knew the people that were supposed to love me unconditionally. It is as if they are a figment of my imagination, and never existed at all. All I have left now is… them.

The hollow shells that remain to take care of me, whom I am supposed to look up to and rely on, want me to be something I can't. They place a weight on my shoulders that I never asked for, that I never wanted. How can they say they care for me, and yet ask me to do such a thing?

To have your life decided for you… To have no say in anything you do… To have to live a lie, a façade, every day of your life… why bother to live?

Those that are supposed to be my best friends- the both of them- they can't relate. The people that love them would never ask them to do what I have been asked. I can't talk to them about it- even if they could comprehend it, they would never fully understand.

So that leads me to where I am now. Alone. Ready to make the biggest decision of my life. All alone.

I've decided. I can't do this. I can't do what they want me to do. I can't be the man they want me to be. It's over. I would rather die at my own hand then at his…

That's it.

That's the only option I have.

I'll end it all, before he has a chance to. It doesn't matter that he may go on forever after I am gone, but I cannot bring myself to care. If I end it all, at least this way I will have done nothing to aide him. I couldn't bear the thought of him using me.

_Turning, the boy walked down a corridor he had never seen. It was on the opposite end of the castle- belonging to the house that he cared not to associate with. He never came over here if he could help it. Smiling, he knew it was perfect. He could only hope that HE would find him._

That's right… come and find me. You've hated me for so long. Wouldn't that just please you so much? I can see you know- laughing at my mutilated body. We made each other's lives hell. Me and my friends, you and yours.

But you don't know, do you? You don't know, my best friends don't know. You don't know how torn my body is all ready. You don't know that I have a secret. You think I tell my two best friends everything, don't you? But you're wrong. You always have been.

I could never share this. This was MY secret. This was MY outlet. This was MY way to let go. …And I'm not sharing it with anyone.

He opened the door, pleased to find the room within deserted. Walking over to the sink, he gazed at his reflection. He knew that as far as standards went, he was quite an attractive wizard. Except for the scars… He had more than he could count- some he had had for longer than he could remember, but he knew how he had gotten them.

_Some were easy to hide… but others… no. The others he hid carefully, leaving his hair long and nearly always in his eyes._

_Diverting his attention from his face, he rolled up his sleeves. Tracing the pale outline of his forearms, he saw some of the others. Dozens upon dozens of scars, on the tops of his forearms were scattered like thin spider webs. The sleeves of his robes hid them well. No one knew they were there. Not even his best friends._

_Sliding down and leaning against the wall adjacent to the sink, he lifted his robes and trousers, and pushed down his socks. Along his ankles there were more. He couldn't help but think that if anyone had known his secret they could have commended him for his clever hiding places. So discreet… impossible to find… unless, of course, you knew where to look. And no one did know where to look. After all, why would he, of all people, inflict damage upon himself?_

_Looking to his wand, he thought about doing this the easy way- by magic. Gazing upwards to the mirror above the sink, he reconsidered. After all this was how he had been doing it all along- the "Muggle Way" it could be called. He couldn't do magic at home, so he would break glass, and use the shards. _

_He had been in pain for so long that he didn't know what it was like to properly feel. Seeing the blood pour out of his arms was like a way to reassure himself that he was still alive. Making the blood run out was his way of taking control. _

_In every other aspect of his life, he had others telling him what to do, what decisions to make… how his life was to be lived- especially in relation to the Dark Lord. Lord Voldemort- he grimaced inwardly. He wasn't going to let him take control._

_When he cut, it was as if he was finally taking control. He knew that he couldn't stop the emotional pain- he couldn't make it go away. He couldn't control it. But there was one thing he could control…_

_…His physical pain._

_If there was nothing else that he had a say in, there was always this. He had no control over anything in his life, especially his emotional pain, but this... this was different._

_When he cut, he had complete control over how much it hurt. Over how much he felt._

_...And it always felt so good. He would be slightly apprehensive at first, when he picked up whatever he had decided to use for that time. Afraid of the pain… afraid of the blood._

_But then… he would make the first cut. And then… oh, and then… it was bliss. It was as if with every drop of blood that poured out of his body, his life and happiness was pouring back in its place. His life's essence, the adrenaline's rush… the feeling of being happy. It was all in his control. Once he started it was hard to stop._

But I don't have to stop this time… I can keep going until all is blissful. I can keep going until the emotional pain is gone, and it's all filled up again with the rush. And then it will be over… Yes, I know it will end. But when it ends, I won't have to come back down. Ever again.

When the rush is over, it's ALL over. All the pain, all the hurt, all the people making my decisions for me. I can't even help but smile at the thought he and his friends will have when they find out I'm gone. No more little old me to worry about. They can just go on with their own little lives.

As for my friends… they won't understand. But how could I expect them to? They could never understand what my life was like- I kept it secret. They didn't even really fully understand me in life, so why should I think they might in death?

_Rising, he walked to the mirror and raised his hand. Tucking it in the arm of his cloak, the put his full force behind his fist, and smashed it into the mirror. With a sickening crack, the glass shattered onto the floor and into the sink._

_Picking up one of the larger pieces, he sat once again on the floor. He turned each of his arms over in turn, exposing the fresh, unscarred flesh and veins on their undersides. It was as if he had been saving the spot for this specific occasion. Wand at the ready, in case he decided to use that as well, he began to slice. Began to cut away the pain._

_Slice…_

"For not being there for me when I needed you."

_Slice…_

"For always telling me what to do."

_Slice…_

"For deserting me when I was so young."

_Slice…_

"For forcing this destiny upon me."

_Slice…_

_He could feel the control taking over. He had never felt so good. He watched the blood roll out, and the euphoria took its toll. Switching to the other arm, he couldn't help but smile. He was finally in control. No one could tell him what to do any more. He was taking his life back to where it had never been before… back to where it belonged… _

…_Into his own hands._

"For never telling me I was good enough."

_Slice…_

"For never giving me a chance to be good enough."

_Slice…_

"For treating me like a baby."

_Slice…_

"For withholding all the information from me that I needed."

_Slice…_

"For telling me what to do."

_Slice…_

"For never letting me decide for myself."

_Slice…_

_So it went, until he could no longer hold the shard of mirror, to cut any further. Using the last amount of his strength he raised himself so he could look into the cracked glass. A dozen images of his pale face stared back at him, eyes wrought with determination._

I won't let you hand me over to the Dark Lord. I won't fight with him. I won't let you take my life away from me. I won't let him take my life away, either. I'm done. It's over. I would rather die then let you manipulate me any longer.

My entire wizarding career your word has been law. I followed you faithfully… blindly. No longer. I won't let you choose what information I hear. I've heard enough about the Dark Lord from… from him. The one I was sworn to hate. He opened my eyes. From the first day at Hogwarts, I was to be sworn enemies with him. He made it easy, too.

But even our hatred cannot hide the knowledge that you fought so hard to conceal from me. I hear things that you never meant me to hear. I know things you never meant me to know.

And I am through with you. I allied myself with you before I knew what you were leading me to.

…Certain death.

Well, I'm sorry. Too bad, but it's no longer an option. I took it away from you. I'd rather take my own life then let you hand it to him. I never wanted this. It's a pity no one ever asked.

_Picking up his wand, he used his other hand to brush his hair off of his forehead. There was already a scar there. A shaking finger traced over it, covering it with blood. Nearly dropping his wand because of his hands being so slippery with blood, he muttered a spell that would make it cut. Raising it to his forehead, he ran it over the scar that he had had for longer than he could remember._

_His head rushed with the feeling of blood flowing outward, and the boy felt another surge of euphoria. The scar was plainly visible, although he kept it hidden with his hair. Right on the edge of his hairline, where a scar once resided, was now a large cut, and blood dripped from it and ran down his face. A cut that was now by his own hand, controlled and willful, instead of by another's rage, nearly killing him the first time._

_Instead of having his life handed over to the Dark Lord, he took it upon himself to end it. Grinning triumphantly at his twelve splintered reflections in the mirror, he couldn't help but be proud. He would be dead soon, and now there would be no way the Dark Lord could use him, or torment him any longer._

_Dizziness struck him, and his breath became short. The euphoria was leaving, and his vision was beginning to swim. Falling backwards to the floor, he could smell his blood all around him. As he took his last breaths, his wand fell from his fingertips, and his other hand stretched out to the bit of mirror that had taken him home. Looking to the ceiling, the lights began to run together._

So this is what it feels like to die… I may not have any honour left, but at least I have my pride. I have pride knowing that I wasn't used to fight this war.

"…I won't be your pawn."

_The light enveloped him, and he felt himself float away into nothingness. He turned back, and looked one last time on his body that lie on the floor of the lavatory. Looking ahead, he knew that he couldn't go on. He needed to stay behind. He needed to find… him. He needed to find the one he had hated for so long, and show him what he had become._

I won't be their pawn.

_This was his thought, as he watched his earthly body take its final breath. Floating through the wall and along the corridor he went to the house that he had despised in life, and to the bed of the boy he had been sworn to hate._

_Looking down upon him, he paused, and watched him sleep. For several hours he watched, as if keeping guard._

"I forgive you…"

_He whispered those words, and knew that the student would wake. Turning himself invisible, he called the boy into awareness, and begged him to follow. The student rose, grabbed his wand, and fallowed the disembodied voice into the corridor and to the lavatory. Only when he gasped in horror at the sight that lie before him did the ghost become visible._

"I won't be used any more. I couldn't take it. I wouldn't let them make me fight. Please tell them… Make sure they find me."

_The student had tears in his eyes. He had not looked up. He had not seen the ghost. He just saw its bloodied form lying on the cold floor. He could not believe that the other boy- who had always been so strong- had been reduced to this._

_The spirit floated down, as if to look at him for the first time, face to face. Gasping, the boy looked up, seeing the ghost for the first time._

_'I'm sorry,' he whispered. 'I never knew.'_

"I never meant you to. Please, go. Make sure the right people find me."

_He nodded, and left. Tears streamed down his face for a boy he had never knew. A boy that had taken his own life rather than be handed over to the Dark Lord to do with what he pleased._

_As if he felt a sudden urgency, he began to run. Down three flights of stairs, through a shortcut that only he and his friends knew of. Coming upon the stone Griffon, he gasped the password with a sob, and rushed up the stairs to find the Headmaster, who seemed to always know when something was amiss, already pulling on his dressing gown._

_'What happened?' asked the elderly wizard._

_The student couldn't reply, he just waved him to follow, and ran down the stairs, tears blinding him, back to the lavatory. The Headmaster was right behind him, and gasped at what he saw. He knew that the fate of the Wizarding World could be drastically altered depending on the decisions that this remarkable boy would make in his life. This remarkable boy who was now lying on the floor, cold and stiff, having bled to death by his own hand._

_'Oh my…'_

_Albus Dumbledore knew that although now he was gone, he knew why. Looking up to the ghost, he nodded in understanding._

_'I'm sorry it had to be this way.'_

"I wouldn't let Voldemort take me. You understand…"

_Nodding, Albus put an arm around the other student, who was now finished crying, and just staring blankly at the mutilated body before him. Albus knew that one day the boy would understand… that one day everyone would. But in the mean time, he had arrangements to make._

_'You decided to stay behind, then?'_

"I had to. I had to make sure that he would be all right. We hated each other in life, and I finally learned to forgive him in death. I only hope it won't take him that long to forgive me."

_The student looked up, and nodded at the pearly figure floating above him._

_'I forgive you. You didn't know. I didn't know… I'm sorry.'_

"No need to be sorry… just make sure that Voldemort doesn't win. I know you can… …I just couldn't be a part of it."

_The student and headmaster nodded, and left the lavatory. Albus had the body floating on the edge of his wand, covered in a sheet, while the spirit of it floated along behind them. Together, the three went to the hospital wing and laid him on a bed. The ghost seemed to be the most comfortable of them all. Even when the nurse came out of her quarters and shrieked in horror at what he had done- he couldn't be sorry for himself._

_In fact he had never been happier. Looking at his body, he knew that it was a sight most would never like to look upon, but he just felt gladdened. He gazed down while the Medi-Witch cleaned off the blood from his wrists, arms and forehead._

"Please… leave the scars. I want them to see what they've done."

_She nodded meekly, too upset to deny him the simple request. His arms were covered in great slashes, some cutting nearly to the bone, others cutting completely. The most interesting gash was the one on his forehead. Looking up at the ghost in concern, she seemed to question not why, but how?_

"It's been there for as long as I can remember, you know that. I wanted it to be from my own hands, instead of his. I took control. He can't manipulate me any longer."

_The nurse, Headmaster and student all stared in awe. The ghost reclined in the air, as if making himself at home._

"You don't mind if I stay here, do you, Headmaster?"

_'Not at all. I want you to be happy.'_

_As the Medi-witch finished her cleaning, she made sure to leave the gashes, as the boy had requested, including the one on his forehead._

_'How did that happen?' asked the student._

**"You're not the only one that's been tortured by the Dark Lord, you know."**

_The student looked shocked, but nodded. He understood everything perfectly now. The ghost nodded, his hair shaking into his eyes, covering the cut on his iridescent forehead. Gliding from the room he left his Headmaster, Nurse and classmate behind._

_The boy was nothing more than a spirit now, but he felt as though he had never been so complete in his life as he was now._

_…The boy's name was Draco Malfoy._


End file.
